


i, who was, is, will be

by arsenouselation



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Character Study, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-10
Updated: 2013-11-10
Packaged: 2018-01-01 01:59:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1038991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arsenouselation/pseuds/arsenouselation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Destroyer and maker of the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i, who was, is, will be

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know how this even started. The line below is from Stephen Crane's The Black Riders and Other Lines, XXXIV.

 

i, who was, is, will be / kuroro lucifer  
 _This is my pattern of God._  
Now this is the God I prefer.  


* * *

Once, he would've been a damn(ed) good priest. His mouth blesses the words, like how the polished stones of a rosary caress cold skin.

But he is his own god now.

Let the Divine One stay in heaven, make the Devil rot in hell, Kuroro will bend this wretched purgatory to his equilibrium.

* * *

No rain ever comes to Meteor City. The land is dry and cracked; no trees, no crops. The only thing this city tills is death. And from this miser's paradise rises the savior.

Nourished with crude oil and anointed with holy smoke, Kuroro takes his guardian by the neck, his small hands quivering with purpose.

_Let your blood wash the land fertile._

The snap, the severance, comes with haste. With conviction.

* * *

Out of the shadows come his disciples.

Kuroro kisses them each, shares a piece of his own soul. Like a prophet, he tells them stories.  _What is mine is yours._

And then, very methodically, he cuts down the would-be traitors, the Judases. Feeds them to the dogs.

Kuroro digs the graves of the ones he killed, utters a prayer to send them on their way. Something to keep them company in the coldness of the tomb.

His heartbeat is the requiem, his hands the funeral rite.

* * *

_Let the dead bury the dead,_  an old philosopher says to him one day.  _And let the dead keep it._

Kuroro cannot help but agree, cocking the shotgun in his face,  _And what are we, but the awaiting dead?_

* * *

Now, he paints the cross on his forehead to signify the Benediction. The purifying of soul from flesh.  _I am the holy of holies._

_The living fear and the dead revere me, I, the sinner-saint. I, who is, who was, who will be._

Destroyer and maker of the world.


End file.
